Now or Never
by Jacinda
Summary: Woody's POV: I knew she had run from Boston. I knew why, but I couldn't imagine her running to him. (Eventual WJ)
1. Chapter 1

Post-Season Finale

Woody's POV:

I heard she left.

Lily walked into my hospital room on a Thursday evening. It was raining. It always seemed to rain in Boston. I knew what she was going to say well before she opened her mouth. Jordan had left.

Lily explained it more as a leave of absence to begin to readjust to life with Garrett. Apparently, there was some cover up on a case from years and years ago. I didn't really follow because Lily began to cry as she talked about Garrett's corruption. Her words eventually disintegrated into silent tears. A hero fallen.

Lily said that Jordan needed some time to begin to sort things out. Jordan had looked to Garrett as a father figure and brother for so long. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling. I had done nothing but push her away. Garrett had done nothing but shake her confidence. It was too much for a woman that didn't have anything besides a morgue and coworkers in her life. I wasn't sure if I would ever see her again.

Nigel told me to buck up, but his eyes told me a completely different story. His eyes were full of despair. He said he found Jordan sobbing in the locker room yesterday. Nigel said he found pictures of me and Garrett in the garbage can in her office. The only two men that had ever provided Jordan with consistency had managed to expertly excise themselves from her life. That left Jordan with shaky confidence and a whole lot of nothing in Boston.

I imagined Jordan running somewhere sunny and warm. Something always drew her back to Los Angeles. I tried to imagine her there. I imagined the sun on her pale skin, and the sand between her pedicured toes. It made me smile.

She told me that she loved me. I remembered every word Jordan said to me as I was being wheeled out of surgery. She told me that she was sick of waiting and game playing. It was now or never. After being told that there was a good chance I would never walk again, I chose never. I didn't want her to feel obligated to care for me. I didn't want her to always have to deal with damaged goods. It wasn't fair for me to ruin her life.

"Big brother, you've really screwed up this time," Cal said. He had been kind enough to call me. I imagined that Jordan had orchestrated it.

"I know," I replied as I fiddled with the IV tubing that provided my pain medication in regular intervals.

"Don't worry about Jordan. She's here with me," Cal replied. That was an immediate cause for concern. Cal had already proven that he couldn't be trusted with Jordan. He would get himself or both of them killed.

"What do you mean don't worry? You sure as hell better not harm a hair on her head. Where the hell are you?" I cursed into the telephone.

"This coming from the guy that turned her away. You hurt her, Woody," Cal replied. I couldn't tell if his tone indicated that he was mad or frustrated.

"Where are you, Calvin?" I demanded.

"We're safe. I'm clean. I'm not in any trouble," Cal replied a little too nonchalantly for my liking, "I'm not going to treat her the way you do. You were always so much like Dad."

"Don't you dare. I did nothing but sacrifice for you. I gave you everything that I could," I replied.

"I've got to go," Cal said.

"Where are you?" I demanded again, but the line went dead before I could wrangle an answer out of Cal.

I threw the telephone across the room. My nobility had always managed to get me in trouble. This time my desire to act in her best interest drove her right into the arms of my coke-head, lying little brother.

What had I done?

A/N: Let me know if you think I should continue.


	2. Chapter 2

Cal's POV:

"Jordan, you've already been kind enough," I tried to protest. I watched Jordan scan the newspaper for apartments. She kept saying that she wanted to rent a two bedroom, so I had a place to sleep. Truthfully, anything was better than the street where she found me yesterday, but I didn't want her to go out of her way.

"I can't afford to stay in a hotel too much longer," Jordan replied.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked as I picked that a muffin she brought me for breakfast.

"You need help, Cal," Jordan replied firmly.

"I always thought it would be my brother that came here to save me. You barely know me," I replied as I tried to fight the nausea from my latest withdrawal.

"I know you need help," Jordan replied with a smile, "There's a rehab clinic that I want you to go to."

"I don't have insurance. There's no way I can afford that," I replied embarrassed at how little I actually had, if anything.

"I sold a house not too long ago. I have more than enough money to help you," Jordan replied.

"I can't take your money," I argued. I knew Woody would kit the roof if he knew what Jordan was trying to do.

"If people didn't give me second and third chances, I wouldn't be employed . . . I wouldn't have any friends. Let me give you a second chance, Cal," Jordan said as she clasped one of her hands over mine.

"I think I've used up all my second chances," I replied as I stared down at the table. It had to be pretty bad if my own brother wasn't willing to have anything to do with me anymore. I think I had gotten up into the tenth . . . eleventh chances with him.

"Cal, I know what it's like to grow up pissed at the world. I know what it's like to always feel like you are fighting an uphill battle. It's not fair. Just take my help," Jordan replied.

"Woody told me about your mother and your father. It sucks growing up knowing that some of your earliest memories are from graveyards and hospital. I can't imagine what you remember," I said as I shook my head.

"It's something you never forget," I replied.

"I'll go to rehab. How long did you plan on staying in Miami?" I asked as I lowered my head to the table. I willed the world to stop spinning. All the spin was making me more nauseated than I was before.

"I was thinking about applying for a job in the pathology department at one of the hospitals. I have six weeks off . . . more than a little time to kill," Jordan replied.

"Are you going to go back to Boston?" I asked as Jordan continued to circle ads in the newspaper.

"I haven't decided yet," Jordan replied with a smile.

I thought about how Woody responded to knowing Jordan with me. Despite how hard he pushed her away, I knew he wanted her back. It must have been a double edged sword. Maybe he hadn't decided yet what was worse . . . living with her or living without her.

He had always been too proud to ask for help. Even with the possibility of never walking again, he didn't want Jordan's help. Jordan made herself vulnerable to him; he saw it as pity. I wondered if we ever learned to love. Maybe Woody didn't know how to love her. Maybe he was so afraid to lose her that he decided never to have her at all.

"Your cell phone is ringing again," I commented. I knew right away it was probably Woody. He was probably ready to send out the Marines to rescue Jordan from what ever he imagined me getting her into.

"I'm not ready to talk to him yet," Jordan replied quickly, "You want to go out for a walk on the beach before I drop you off at the center."

"You make it sound so nice, Jordan. I know I'm a junkie. I know I'm a screw up," I replied.

"Well, then why don't you join another fellow screw up for a walk on the beach," Jordan replied.

I knew why Woody fell in love with her.


	3. Chapter 3

Woody's POV:

"She's with Cal," I tried to calmly explain to Nigel. I wasn't sure if he was comprehending exactly what I was saying. He didn't know that I covered for Cal at the crime scene. Nigel hadn't been privy to the long conversations I had with Jordan about Cal's rather tumultuous life.

"She's with your brother," Nigel clarified.

"My brother who's a junkie and a liar," I replied.

The hospital room was dark. My hospital room was always dark. I hated the blinding, unnatural glow of the fluorescent lights. I preferred the darkness. I preferred not seeing Lily look at me with pity or Nigel stare at me like I was somehow broken. I hated to admit that I was broken in more ways than one.

"Jordan is . . . . she's Jordan. She is more than capable of taking care of herself," Nigel replied with a smile. I knew that her absence was also hurting him. They were close to say the least. Nigel had always been an honorary member of her family. Jordan always ran to Nigel if she needed help; she used to run to me.

"My brother nearly got her killed last time. He does drugs . . . he steals drugs. He gambles away all his money. I'm willing to bet that where ever he is he's causing trouble," I replied.

"So what is it that you want me to do?" Nigel asked. He didn't sound like he believed that someone sharing my genetics could possibly be the monster that I had just described.

"Find her. Drag her home. Just get her the hell away from Cal," I replied.

"Let's give her some time to cool off before we start an international manhunt," Nigel suggested. I shook my head. I wasn't sure what I needed to say to get Nigel to believe that my little brother was a danger.

"That's not good enough, Nigel," I replied. My voice was a little softer than it was a few minutes ago.

"Jordan's probably still stewing about those things you said to her. Give her time. Give her six weeks, Woody. She'll come back," Nigel replied. I immediately felt mortified that everyone knew about my less than graceful way of telling Jordan to back off. I wondered if this was going the way of the Devan fiasco. It took what seemed like ages for Nigel, Bug, Garrett, and Lily to stop looking at me as if I was the enemy. At that time, I probably was the enemy but didn't realize it. Now, I knew that I was the enemy. I had hurt their friend . . . their family . . . their daughter, sister, best friend that had a penchant for roaming the country.

"She's pretty good at holding a grudge," I replied. For as many times as she assured me that she understood why I ran to Devan and Sam, I don't think she ever really forgave me for it. Jordan ran across the country; I ran to other women.

"She's got nothing on Garrett," Nigel said with a smile. Garrett would do anything to protect Jordan. He would move mountains for her. He told me more than once not to screw around with her. I remembered him cornering me in the morgue and telling me that Jordan was a fragile girl. I remembered the look in his eyes when he warned me not to break her. I, unfortunately, broke her more than once.

"Nigel, I'm being very serious when I say that Jordan's in danger. My brother is dangerous. I don't want him to get her killed," I said, "Right now, I'm not in a position where I can do anything about it."

I never admitted that I needed help.

"Okay, I'll look for her, but on one condition," Nigel replied, "You've got to decide whether you love her or you're going to leave her. No more games. No more breaking her heart. You've got to decide what you want."

"It's now or never, huh?" I said to no one in particular.


	4. Chapter 4

Lily's POV:

"So, according to Woody, his brother is a junkie," Nigel said. He sat on the corner of my desk relaying the story Woody told him this afternoon. I sat with my head in my hands trying desperately to figure out exactly what Jordan had gotten herself into this time. Maybe she was trying to save Cal. If you can't save the one you love, save the one you're with. Fate was cruel.

"He's persistent. I have a hard time picturing Woody's brother being a junkie, but he does seem very concerned about Jordan," Nigel said to fill the silence.

"So what do we do?" I asked as I ran my fingers in delicate circles around my temples.

"I was going to ask you that," Nigel replied.

"We should tell Garrett," I replied. Garrett had always been able to talk some sense into Jordan. Well, he was able to talk more sense into Jordan than Nigel and I ever could.

"I don't know. You saw the look on her face when she left with Garrett," Nigel replied.

"I know. I know. So we can let Jordan cool off and come home on her own terms, or we can drag her home," I said.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Nigel said, "What if she's really gotten herself in over her head?"

"Jordan, what did you do this time?" I asked no one in particular. Sometimes, I wanted to scream at her for running. Other times, I wanted to congratulate her for her ability to walk away from situations to gain perspective.

This all had to happen after Jordan began to make peace with her life. She had accepted her father's faults, her mother's mental illness, and her instability. Jordan was becoming peaceful in a way that I didn't think she was capable of. She was finally opening up to all of us. She let us love her, and she loved us back. A tear slid down my cheek as I remembered how Jordan held Nigel after Sara's arraignment. I missed her more than ever.

"I don't want her near Woody," Nigel said, "I told him he had to decide what he wanted from Jordan."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He either loves her, or he leaves her for good. No more flip-flopping. No more leading her on," Nigel said sternly, "He's not going to do that to her anymore."

"She worked so hard to open up to him. I don't know if she'll be able to just stop those feelings," I replied. Part of me hoped that she could stop loving him. I was sick of seeing her get hurt over and over again.

"There has to be someone better out there," Nigel replied.

"I don't think this is the time to start finding men to set Jordan up with," I teased as I rested a hand on Nigel's knee.

"I want her to be happy. She deserves to be happy. Her life has been one disappointment after another," Nigel replied. If anyone knew about disappointments, it was Nigel and Jordan. Their lives had always been filled with more tragedy than happiness.

"Let's give her a week before we start looking," I replied after a long uncomfortable pause.

"Okay," Nigel replied as he squeezed my hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Jordan's POV:

There was a private pathology lab five miles away from the sparsely furnished apartment I rented in Miami. Much of the work is monotonous. I reviewed tissue samples for lawyers working on malpractice cases. Occasionally, the medical examiner's office sent us tissue samples when they were overworked and understaffed.

The pathologist that hired me was an old, rumpled man. His arthritis, hunched stature, and shuffling gate told me that he was probably in his seventies. To him, pathology was his life. He confided in me that he was alone. All he had was the small, private lab. He sounded so sad when he talked about his personal life; Dr. Erb insisted upon taking me out for lunch every afternoon. I had never met someone so alone. I became terrified of becoming him.

"Cal, you home?" I asked as I walked through the door. I was exhausted and ready to go to bed. The sheer inactivity of my temporary job made my current work feel much more exhausting than the adrenaline fueled work in Boston.

"Yep," Cal called out from the living room.

He was beginning to look better. I gave him a methadone pill every morning before I dropped him off at the rehab center. I always waited until he was inside the building. There was always a voice in the back of my head telling me not to trust him. Unfortunately for Cal, the voice won, and he was kept on a very short leash.

"I'm hungry. Let's go out for seafood," Cal said as he greeted me in the kitchen.

He had been staying with me for a week. Once the worst of the withdrawals were remedied by methadone, I found myself enjoying his company. He was so much like Woody, but at the same time Cal was so different. Cal was so relaxed. He was a free-spirit. He didn't worry about if everything was headed perfectly on course. Cal didn't pressure people because he was able to go with the flow. I looked forward to coming home to see him.

"You're cellphone has been ringing nearly non-stop in the fifteen minutes since I got home," Cal said as he took the leather satchel I was carrying and put it on the kitchen table.

"Woody?" I asked as I opened up the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of spring water.

"Woody and . . . Nigel," Cal replied.

"I'm going to call Nigel back before we go out for supper," I replied as I walked into the sparsely furnished living room.

"You think everything is okay in Boston?" Cal asked. I knew he was worried about Woody. I knew he was more worried than he would ever admit; in that sense, he was so much like his brother.

"We'll see," I replied. I could feel my heart begin to race. The 'doctor' portion of my brain began to come up with a million different complications of the surgeries that Woody was undergoing. For as much as he hurt me, I still had a hard time accepting the fact that he didn't want me anymore. It was compounded by the fact that I had said things to him that I had never said to a man before. I really did love him. I wasn't sure if I could just stop loving him.

"Jordan, love, is that you?" Nigel asked. He must have been waiting for a telephone call because he picked up his cellphone after the first ring.

"Yeah, it's me," I replied awkwardly. I wasn't sure what to say to him. I wasn't sure what needed to be said.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It's been a week," Nigel replied.

"I'm doing good," I replied.

"Woody says you're with his troublesome younger brother," Nigel said.

"Cal and I are doing okay. Both of us are fine. There's really no need to worry," I replied.

"Woody thinks there's a good reason to worry," Nigel replied.

"How is he?" I asked.

"I saw him a few days ago. He was doing okay. The swelling around his spinal cord is beginning to go down. I guess all those antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medications are starting to do their thing," Nigel replied.

"That's good. How's the vascular supply to his caudal spinal cord?" I asked. I knew the real danger was in the formation of blood clots that might compromise blood flow to the areas of his spinal cord that were healing following the shooting. Judging from the amount I remembered seeing on his Kevlar and clothing, his spinal cord probably was damaged from the blood loss. The question was whether his spinal cord was damaged beyond repair.

"It's good. He's healing up as quickly as can be expected," Nigel replied, "How are you healing, love?"

"One day at a time. It's hard to be let down by so many people at once," I replied.

"Dr. M loves you. You know that," Nigel replied, "He's not perfect."

"I know. I just always looked to him as a moral authority . . . considering my dad had a tendency to play by his own rules," I replied.

"I know, love. You sound well," Nigel commented.

"I'm trying to use this time to figure out what's going on in my life, Nige. I'm going to come home feeling better. I promise," I replied.

"Okay. Jordan, be careful. If you need anything, I want you to call me," Nigel instructed.

"I'll even call you just to check in," I replied.

"Thanks, love. You know how to put an old man's mind at ease," Nigel teased.

"I call in a few days. Say hi to Lily for me," I replied, "Bye."

"Is Woody okay?" Cal immediately asked. I hadn't noticed him pacing the room nervously as I reassured Nigel that my absence was temporary.

"He's healing just the way he should be. Let's go get supper," I replied. Cal didn't look convinced. Despite all the Woody said to Cal, Cal still loved him. I think going to rehab was Cal's way of showing Woody that he wasn't a screw-up. After his trip to Boston, I think Cal realized that he needed to clean up, but he didn't know how.

"You sure we shouldn't go to Boston?" Cal asked.

"I'm sure. Let's give Woody sometime to figure out what he wants," I replied.

"Why does he do this? He completely shuts down if everything isn't perfect," Cal replied, "Nothing in this world is perfect. I don't get why he needs it to be perfect."

"I wish I understood that, too," I replied.


	6. Chapter 6

Woody's POV:

"I told you to find her, and bring her home," I angrily spat at Nigel. Nigel stood in the doorway unwilling to move any closer to me. I didn't blame him; I had been something less than diplomatic since I had taken up residence at the hospital.

"Jordan said that her and Cal are both okay. She's a big girl, Woody. Jordan has an uncanny way of being able to handle difficult situations," Nigel replied. Judging from the tone of his voice, I was indeed one of the difficult situations.

"I'm his brother, and I haven't figured out how to handle him," I yelled, "He's going to get her killed, Nigel. If and when it happens, I'm holding you personally accountable."

With my final barb, Nigel left. There really wasn't anything else to be said. There really wasn't much I could do from this damn hospital bed besides leave her voicemail messages that she obviously didn't want to return.

"Dammit, Jordan. I don't know what the hell you are thinking. You saw what Cal can do . . . the Albanian bar. Do I really have to remind you?" I angrily spat into the telephone. I knew this wasn't the way to get Jordan back to Boston, but I for some reason couldn't say to her what she said to me.

"Jordan, please come home. I need you," I said before hanging up the phone.

The silence in my hospital room was painful. Nobody stopped by to see me anymore because I didn't have a kind word to share with them. I was mad at the world for landing me in this hospital bed. I was mad that Jordan could only tell me the things I always wanted to hear when she thought I was dying.

I pushed the button on my PCA morphine machine. I hoped the medication might help me sleep.

Jordan's POV:

"I used to play that game. My father was a sheriff in Orlando before it became so commercialized," Dr. Erb said as he poked at his lunch, "Sweetheart, you need to eat something. Look at how thin you are."

"Sorry," I said as I played with my salad. I didn't really feel hungry. I listened to my voicemails from Woody last night. It was funny how he could make my emotions jump from enraged to depressed to something else I couldn't describe. No one else had that power over me. I normally didn't care what other people said, but with Woody . . . it meant everything.

"Jordan, why did you decide to work during your vacation?" Dr. Erb asked as he began to concentrate a little more on his Monte Cristo sandwich. He was an endearing old man. He was the ideal, Norman Rockwell grandfather that I had always dreamed of having.

"I don't know. I guess I really love my job," I replied though there was a distinct hitch in my voice.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't love your job so much. It's good thing for me. I needed the help around the lab. Jordan, just don't wake up someday and realize that all you have is your job," Dr. Erb said.

_I'll give him four more weeks to heal. I'll give Cal four more weeks to keep working on staying clean. I'll give my heart four more weeks to fix itself. _

I knew that I couldn't go back to Boston. I knew I couldn't look him in eyes; the wounds were still too fresh. The scared little girl that I kept locked inside my fierce persona had managed to find her way out again. That scared little girl didn't know if she could be rejected again.


	7. Chapter 7

Nigel's POV:

So the weeks passed in a fashion slower than I would have preferred. Jordan called weekly to give me updates on her undisclosed location and Woody's 'troublesome' brother. Jordan described her absence as a much needed to time to reevaluate her life, her relationships, and whether or not she would come home. I knew what it really meant. It was time for her to decide what the hell to do with Woody.

Jordan said she would be home next Wednesday. She told me that she needed to pack herself and Cal up, and she needed to say good-bye to her boss. Jordan was coming home. Honestly, I hadn't expected her to.

I went to the hospital to tell Woody, but his room was empty. His nurse said that he had been transferred to a spinal cord rehabilitation program. Despite my best judgment, I drove across town to at least warn him that Jordan and Cal would be home in a few days.

He struggled against his wheelchair. He cursed at his legs that moved slowly. I was glad to see that his legs moved at all.

"I don't believe you," Woody said point blank when I told him Jordan was coming home.

"She's coming back on Wednesday. She's bringing your brother with her," I clarified as I followed him to his room. It was sparsely decorated and furnished. It almost reminded me of the army barracks I stayed in as a younger lad.

"I don't want to see either of them," Woody said.

"Fine. Then leave her alone. She deserves to be happy for once in her life," I said. I could feel my temper coming to a head.

"They abandoned me. Can't you see that? I live in a miserable fucking nightmare here," Woody cursed loudly.

"You pushed them away first," I tried to gently remind him.

"I called her one hundred and thirty seven times. She never called me back. Jordan abandoned me," Woody replied as if the number of phone calls really gave me any idea as to the quality of their content.

"You hurt her. Every week, she tells me just how much you hurt her. Jordan Cavanaugh isn't known for putting her heart on the line. When she did, you sent her away. Woodrow, you can't expect her to just run back to her when you call," I said trying to stifle my urge to hit Woody over the head . . . knock some sense back into him.

"I asked her to come home," Woody replied.

"How did you ask her? Did you yell . . . maybe make her feel like shit for leaving?" I asked my voice again becoming raised.

"Get out," Woody yelled. I knew the truth in that moment.

"You've sure gotten good at pushing away that people that care about you," I said as I turned around and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

Cal's POV:

"Welcome home, love," a tall English man says as he draws Jordan into his arms and kisses the top of her head.

"Nigel, it's good to be back," Jordan said with an easy smile. I was a little surprised that her first choice destination in Boston was the morgue. She told me that she wanted to check in with _the family_ before we got settled in her apartment.

"You must be Calvin. Welcome to Boston," Nigel said as he extended a hand to me. I couldn't remember if I had met him before. It's funny how drugs can make you forget such things.

"Thanks. It's nice to be here," I said politely. I was nervous about Boston, but Jordan refused to leave me alone in Miami. She told me that I was coming to Boston with her. Jordan was going to help me rebuild my life . . . of course, it would be under her watchful eye.

I didn't resent her parenting. It didn't feel like parenting at all. She talked to me like I was an adult. She didn't use my past addictions as leverage in arguments. Jordan was good to me; I tried to do her right. I worked at staying clean. I fought off every urge by thinking about how much I would disappoint her. She, after all, was the first person in a long time to really care about me and what I had gone through. Kindred spirits you might say.

"How about lunch? I can put this stuff away for a bit," Nigel said with a smile.

"I could just about kill for a pub burger and fries," Jordan said with a smile. I knew that she was tired from driving that damn el camino all the way from Miami. The seats were uncomfortable and the shocks . . . well . . . it wasn't a smooth ride to Boston. Once I had a real job, the first thing I was going to do with my money was to give her the down payment for a real, safe, functional car. I wanted to repay her somehow.

"Calvin?" Nigel asked.

"Sounds good. Can we take your car?" I asked.

"The el camino?" Nigel asked with a laugh.

"It's not that bad. Anyways, Nigel has a motorcycle. I don't want to try to fit all of us on that," Jordan said with a soft giggle.

"Can we walk?" I asked.

"Gladly," Nigel replied.

Woody's POV

I had been released from my cage to go to work. Framus and Santana dragged me away from cold case files. They actually forcibly wheeled me away from cold case files and over to the pub across the street. They ordered food for me and pretended to enjoy my company. I fought them the entire way.

I hadn't expected to see Nigel, Jordan, and Cal walk through the door. I didn't expect Framus to wave them over to our table. Framus obviously didn't hear about how good I was at pushing people I loved away from me.

Jordan looked well; Cal looked like a person that I didn't recognize. They were both tan and healthy looking. They both looked happy. I didn't want them to be happy as long as I was miserable. I wanted them to suffer for what I perceived as them abandoning me to go on vacation for six weeks, while I struggled through six weeks of grueling therapy alone. I neglected to remember that I was alone because I turned everyone away. It was so much easier to blame them than blame myself.

"Woody, it's good to see you," Cal said politely. I noticed immediately that for some reason his hand rested on the small of Jordan's back. I pretended not to be interested. I went back to scowling at my food and my company.

"Just dandy to see you too," I said without bothering to stifle any of my anger. Maybe there was also a hint of jealousy in my voice.

"It's good to see that you're up and about," Jordan replied awkwardly.

"This chair provides me with oh-so-much freedom," I replied bitterly.

"She's trying, Woody. If you wouldn't have told her to get out of your hospital room, you wouldn't be so damn miserable," Cal replied. Jordan blushed. Framus and Santana looked down at their plates.

"Did you ever think I made the right decision? I wouldn't want anyone that would run off with a coke-head," I replied without thinking. I could tell by the look on Cal's face and the tears in Jordan's eyes that I had managed to sever the last raw nerve. I wasn't about to let them back into my life, but I wasn't about to let Cal run off with Jordan. She was the only girl in Boston that he couldn't have and I wouldn't let myself have.

"I'm clean. I've been clean for six weeks because Jordan made me . . .," Cal began.

"Cal, no. It's okay. I'm really sorry we disturbed your lunch," Jordan said as she let Nigel lead them across the pub to a booth out of our eye-shot and ear-shot.

I wondered why Cal was clean and how Jordan managed to make herself instrumental in that. Then, I began to wonder if they weren't just lying to me.

"Glad to see that you are so good at making friends," Framus said sarcastically.

"I told you that she wouldn't sit around and wait for you to stop acting like an asshole," Santana admonished.

"Me? Look at them," I replied with a distinct edge to my voice.

"No, Woody. Look at you. Look at the way she looks at you. You were stupid to ever let her go," Framus replied. I hated it when she was right.

"She left me to go be with him," I replied.

"No, she left you because you told her to get out of your hospital room. Jesus, Woody, what the hell are you so afraid of?" Santana replied.

"Is whatever you are afraid of worse than knowing that someone else could take over your spot in her life?" Framus asked. I had this distinct feeling that I was going to be ganged up on from this day forward. Neither woman was a 'soft' woman. They were both strong and opinionated . . . so much like Jordan.

"Did you really think Jordan would wait for you after what you said? This is Jordan. Not some love-sick little girl," Santana clarified.

I did think that she would wait. In the corner of my mind, I thought she would wait. In the corner of my mind, I never really believed that she had abandoned me. I just managed to tuck away my sensible side. I wanted to let the numb, to-hell-with-the-world side of my personality shield me from feeling all my emotions as intensely as I normally did.

"I did this, didn't I?" I asked no one in particular.

"Woody, I mean this as a friend and colleague . . . you really fucked up this time," Framus replied. So much for a rhetorical question being a rhetorical question.

"So does this mean that you are going to pack away the bastard routine for a little while?" Santana asked, "If you really love her, you are going to have to work your ass off. No more 'get out' and no more 'coke-head' comments."

"Woods, you're going to need one hell of a huge bulldozer to dig yourself out of this one," Framus commented as she stole a French fry from my plate.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Just glad you had this epiphany before I strangled you myself," Santana said with a smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Woody's POV:

I stepped off the elevator into the medical examiner's office. I think I might have stepped into a land where chaos seemed to rule. Something must have been brewing because people were running from room to room. Everything was so chaotic that no one seemed to notice that I was being carried by my two feet with the assistance of crutches.

It had been two long weeks since I saw Jordan. It had been two long weeks since Santana and Framus verbally slapped me in the face. They woke me up to the fact that I was being an asshole. It took me two weeks to digest the fact that I had driven a huge wedge between Jordan and me.

"Lily, where does this go?" I heard a familiar voice ask. I turned around to see Cal carrying six or seven files that were stuffed to the brim.

"Cal, storage room B. Blue tabs always go in storage room B," Lily replied, "Is Jordan nervous?"

"Freaking out about giving this presentation. She practically has the coffee pot attached to her arm. I don't think she got any sleep last night," Cal replied. I stood in the wings listening to the conversation. It seemed like Cal knew some pretty personal things about Jordan. I smiled as I remembered how I once warned him that he could have any woman in Boston expect my Jordan. She didn't seem much like she was mine anymore.

"Do I look okay?" Jordan said as she emerged from the conference room straightening the gray suit she was wearing. It was fitted to every inch of her skin.

"You'll knock them dead, boss," Cal replied. His comment nearly ripped my heart out all over again.

"Thanks for lying. You don't know how much it means to me," Jordan replied with a smile, "I've got to go finish setting up. Cal, do you know how to hook up projectors?"

"Sure thing, boss. Let me just put these in Storage B," Cal said as he turned towards me. He nearly walked into me before noticing that I was in his way.

"Cal," I said in what I thought was the least offensive voice possible.

"Woody, wow. You're walking," Cal said with a genuine smile on his face, "I need to get going. Jo needs help getting ready for her presentation."

"Oh, you're working here?" I asked.

"Jo got me the job. I kind of like it here," Cal replied.

"You know how I said that you could have any girl in Boston except . . . " I began.

"No dice, bro. She's a great woman. She needs someone that is going to treat her well. I just don't think you are that person," Cal replied as anger flashed across his face, "I need to go."

I was left standing in the middle of the chaos.

Lily's POV:

I knew the day was coming when Woody would need to come back to the morgue. I had always hoped he would come to make amends rather than come on business. I wish he hadn't picked the day that Jordan was presenting interesting cases to a visiting professor from Texas Southwest. The man happened to be very influential in the world of forensic science. The work he did in the morgue in Dallas was considered to be cutting edge. He always ran a continuing medical education inservice that operated on an invitation only basis.

Garrett knew that Jordan wanted to attend that inservice. She had come back from where ever reenergized. She said it was time she got a little more serious about her career. In the wake of Slokum, I think Jordan figured out that she eventually wanted Garrett's job. The rest of the staff was more than happy to make sure that someone from the inside was capable of stepping in if Garrett ever needed to leave.

"Hey, Woody," I said with a smile that I hoped masked the dread that I was feeling. I knew Jordan wasn't mentally capable of handling Woody's wrath today. "You look so good."

"Thanks, Lily. What's going on around here?" he asked as he shifted uncomfortably on his crutches.

"Dr. Adams from Texas Southwest is here for a few days to observe the morgue, give talks, and listen to a presentation from Jordan," I replied. I knew that probably wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was all that I was willing to give.

"Oh, she's nervous, huh?" Woody replied. I wondered what Cal said to him. The Woody that I knew was angry. Since the shooting, I hadn't seen him look dejected or apologetic. I wondered what changed from two weeks ago.

"There's a first time for everything," I replied with a smile.

"When did Cal start working here?" Woody asked.

"Two weeks ago. We never really trained anyone to take over my old job after I became the in-house grief counselor. Cal's getting the hang of the paperwork, filing system, and who likes what kind of coffee," I said. Woody smiled for a moment before his face fell flat again.

"I should go. I wouldn't want to upset anyone. I'll stop by sometime," Woody rambled as he turned around.

"That might be a good idea," I said carelessly and selfishly. I didn't want Jordan to see him. It was her day to shine, and she didn't need confrontation right now.

"Lily, wish her good luck for me," Woody replied as he moved toward the elevator.

"Woody, Dr. Adams leaves tomorrow afternoon," I called out as he got onto the elevator.

His blue eyes were a little darker. He might have started to come to terms with his injury and a certain woman that he hurt.

For Jordan's sake, I hope he took Nigel's advice. It was now or never, and from the look in his eyes I think he wanted her back.


End file.
